Brink
by Lia Harkness
Summary: They told him she was being trained to be a better seeker... He didn't expect this.
1. Conference

_Venice, Italy._

"Do you think she'll be there?"

"Dante, we haven't seen her for months. Metz said her training would take a while." Sophie sighed, glancing up at her mentor.

"Still, they can't keep her from the conference can they?" Dante turned concern and worry plastered over his face. He'd worn the same expression ever since Zhalia had left. He hadn't been able to contact her, except through Metz. Even then, it seemed as though the replies that returned had been forced or fake.

"Dante, please stop pacing," Lok groaned rubbing his eyes, "it makes me and Sophie nervous too. I'm sure she's fine."

Dante turned and frowned, glancing towards the door, as though waiting for her to walk right through it. He sighed.

"I hope so."

_Foundation Headquarters, New York._

Dante slowly unpacked his belongings for the weekend from his case. He turned each of them over, placing his clothes in the wardrobe and spare shoes under the bed. The room itself was nice, but impersonal, everything white, almost clinical. He placed his hands in his pockets as he sat down, removing their contents to comfort him.

From one, he brought all of his amulets. He held each of them, running his fingers over their smooth, cold sides. He lined them up before him, staring at them. This was the man he let everybody else see. His titans, his spoils of war. He was a strong seeker, capable of many titans, having won or found each and every one of them. A smile tinged his lips faintly, but he remembered how he had lost one, one most precious.

From the other, two objects were laid down. The first, a thin black scarf, wrapped around the second. As he unravelled it, memories flooded back to him, of this scarf and the woman who had worn it. As he reached the end, the titan he had concealed within it tumbled out. He stared at it for a few moments. Gareon.

He remembered their trade, a vow that the first titan they had received would be switched. They'd planned it for ages. It was so that each of them could better understand the other. As he traced the outline of the gem, he remembered his Solwing, and how much he missed it. He knew it was safe, with her, but he couldn't suppress the feeling of his loneliness, and how she must feel. He had Lok and Sophie, but as far as he knew, she had no-one. Not even her oldest friend.

He sighed. It was never meant to be like this. Metz had come too soon, whisking her away, before she could teach him. He lifted the amulet, his last piece of her, and pressed his lips against it, murmuring her name softly.

"Ah, Dante."

As Dante stepped into the conference hall, Metz stood up, beaming. It was good to see him healthy; after all of the time he'd spent teetering on the half-brink of death.

"We were beginning to wonder where you were."

"Well, I'm here now," he grinned, "I hope you didn't start without me." Dante climbed a few steps to his seat beside Sophie and Lok. They smiled, and he acknowledged them. He glanced around at the wide, semi-circular, staggered seating. It always reminded him of a Greek Amphitheatre, but instead of a stage, they were glancing at a screen above the main entrance doors. What always confused him, though, was the pentagonal room shape, and the large open space between the seating and the doors. However, for both queries, he was yet to discover the answer.

The conference dragged on, for hours and for days, for it seemed every seeker of the Foundation had a qualm or query, an issue or an intrigue. When tedium ensued, Dante found himself with his hands in his pockets, running her scarf through his fingers.

It was while they were listening to Montehue's account that they heard the sirens. Within a blink of an eye, servants of the blood spiral had forced their way through the doors to the conference room. As Dante jumped to his feet, a translucent barrier shimmered between them and the Foundation, both sides held back from the other.

Dante recognised a few of them from the battle earlier in the year, but most were still wearing their masks. They unnerved him.

It was Metz who spoke first.

"I suggest you leave. The barrier is unbreakable, and only 5 people in the entire world can pass through it." He settled back into his seat, folding his hands into his chest, "it would be far easier than having to waste all of that effort trying."

The silence that hung in the room was heavy, weighing down on everyone's shoulders. They weren't going to fight, or even capture them?

"What's he talking about?" Lok muttered, his hand reaching for the amulet around his neck.

"I don't know," Dante murmured, not taking his eyes off of the situation playing out below.

"And why would we trust you?" The cold voice of Shauna shattered the quiet, as did the tremor as Dervish slammed into the barrier. Despite its delicate appearances, the shield held.

"Am I taking it that you won't leave?" Metz continued calmly.

"We won't leave until we get what we came for," she spat, eyes narrowing. Metz got to his feet, standing his ground.

"Well I guarantee you won't be getting it." Powers and titans bounced off the barrier, the Spiral getting more and more aggravated. Dante glanced around, hating feeling helpless, but he trusted Metz enough not to question him.

"We won't leave without a fight!" Shauna growled her anger through the barrier, seething.

"Then I guess you leave us no choice." Metz's voice was barely a whisper, silence once again settling. But this time it was broken by a voice Dante knew all too well. His heart stalled within his chest, the echoes of it bouncing off the walls, everyone, including him, inclined their heads to the corners of the ceiling, each occupied by a woman.

"Dead or alive?"

The one who spoke was Zhalia.


	2. Conflict

Dante's mouth went dry, to see her again after so much time had passed. But something had changed. Something was different.

"Alive." As Metz uttered his response, the five girls nodded. Within a brief second, Zhalia's eyes locked onto his. She winked.

Then, she pushed herself off her platform and hurtled to the ground.

They all did, but he couldn't tear his eyes away from her. There were cries of astonishment and horror, one most definitely coming from him, which echoed around the hall. Yet, something caught them, a ripple of power surged across their bodies and through the hall. He watched, as her usual jeans and jacket flowed into a deep hue of purple. She landed, as always, on her feet, standing up slowly as the others did likewise.

The dress she wore was simple, absent of straps and falling to her mid-thigh. It was structured, as though made of leather, such as ancient armour had been. Her boots ran high to meet her hemline and her arms, head and shoulders were free from everything, except a few bands coloured the same violet as the rest. Even her hair had begun to shine more indigo than blue.

He glanced to her comrades, surprised at Scarlett being one of them, dressed in a deep dark green. The others he could not place. One wearing iridescent white, one with sea blue, and the other, a dark-skinned individual, in a suit that looked as though it was burning with eternal fire. They took a line across the breadth of the barrier and stood there, watching. Shauna backed away as Zhalia took a step closer.

"Impossible," Sophie whispered, leaning forward to peer at them

"What?" Dante frowned, not taking his eyes off of the purple figure below.

"I think they're the Watchers."

"What are the Watchers?" Lok piped.

"They're supposed to be hidden," she murmured, shaking her head slightly. "The Watchers were nominated to protect the world's best interests, and to observe their daily comings and goings. It's said that they live on the brink between humans and titans, gaining incomparable powers. But they're never meant to interfere. That's why it's so confusing."

"Is it safe?" Dante breathed, worry and concern once again bubbling to the surface. He didn't want her getting hurt.

"Presumably," Sophie shrugged, "I'd have to do some more research."

Dante growled under his breath returning his gaze to the five below. Nothing had changed in their interlude.

"Ladies," a smile twitched across Zhalia's lips, the light fittings trembling as she pulled a sword from off her back, turning it over in her hands. "Let's have some fun."

She stepped through the barrier as easily as if it wasn't there, swinging the sword at one of the titan's neck. The girl in white jumped, tackling a servant, before jumping in the air and shooting him with an arrow. She appeared to hover for a moment, before soaring away. Dante blinked.

A fire ball glared through the room, surrounding one of the other girls, and anyone or anything she touched also caught alight. Scarlett stood behind the line, deep concentration etched across her face, sending tremors across the flagstones. Glancing weapons and retreating energies of titans faded, as they were overcome with their terrifying strength and power.

Suddenly everything stood still. The lights began to flicker and the five amassed together as a huddle. Residue spells ricocheted off an unseen shield surrounding them. Many had fled, only a few servants remained.

"They say lightning doesn't strike twice." The sizzle of electricity began to emanate from the light fittings. Dante strained down to see what was going on. Zhalia stepped forwards, static glancing off of her, visible as tiny violet charges. "Let's hope in your case, that's true."

The bulbs exploded, glass shattering everywhere, the current racing towards her. She caught it in her hands and held it. Dante blinked not believing what he saw. The other four appeared by her sides, each carrying a different entity within their hands. A different elemental power.

There was a surge of energy as they were released from their captive form. Trailing tendrils encompassed and rendered each servant of the spiral unconscious. But Dante didn't see that. He saw the charge cling to her skin, racing from her hands in whatever direction she chose. The other elements entwined within her own, the strength of her blasts at least double of the others.

It was over almost as soon as it had started. What remained of the infiltration had been strung up, held by chains that varied from ice to stone to rippling air streams. They were all unconscious, either from the tendrils residue or having been electrocuted. The barrier shivered into inexistence.

"What now?" Lok asked. Without answering, Dante ran down the stairs, two at a time. Other seekers sat, cowering, but he didn't care. Zhalia was here, within his reach, and he wasn't going to let her go.

Metz reached them before he did, followed by Guggenheim, and four others who he recognised by sight, but not name.

"Amira and Elea have gone to search out any stragglers, but I doubt there are any." She turned, her facade flowing back into her normality. Scarlett and the one in white also returned to regular attire, hanging back, allowing Zhalia to handle the situation.

"Thank you." Metz uttered in a voice flat and level. Dante frowned, the formalities confusing him.

"You owe us," she whispered, her eyes taking on the deathly determination he had only seen in fleeting seconds.

"You have a night, as always. Don't expect any more." She turned away, lifting a hand to her forehead and running her fingers through her hair. The entrance doors opened and the other two strolled through.

"There's no-one left. They fled." The girl who had worn blue spoke, her voice hinting to South-American origin. Zhalia nodded, as did the others, and they all turned to leave. Dante started forward, but Metz placed a restraining hand on his shoulder.

"Why don't you stay for the conference?" He called to their retreating backs.

"We have one night of freedom," Zhalia turned, her voice turning cold. "What makes you think we'd want to spend it with all of you?"


	3. Visit

Dante sat through another half an hour of mindless drivel before the council was adjourned. Everyone was shaken and in no fit state to continue. Some left, some went to use the restaurant facilities, others returned to their rooms. Dante was one of the latter.

He walked into his room, his mind still whirring, trying to place all of the events together. Sophie and Lok had gone to the library to see if they could find out anything more. It wasn't until he'd sat down, exhausted, that he saw the silhouette against the window.

He jumped to his feet, lethargy gone, and fished out his amulets. Then she spoke.

"Is that really how you plan to greet me, Dante?" She turned away, stepping into the room so that the light flooded her face. He released his titans, relief flooding through him.

"Zhalia," he breathed. "I thought you said..."

"I was referring to them as a whole. You know me and large amounts of people. I get tetchy." She stopped just in front of him, every inch of her exactly as he remembered. Her eyes softened, taking on the look of loss and loneliness she only ever shared with him. "I've missed you."

"I missed you too," he murmured, drawing her to his chest and burying his face into her hair.

They stayed like that for an incalculable time, both finding comfort in the other, solid proof of reality, the steady rise and fall of their chests combined with the rhythmic beating of their hearts. He didn't want to let her go. He wanted to keep her here, with him, forever. But from what he had inferred, they didn't have that kind of time.

"Zhalia, what's going on?" He murmured, stroking her hair. She laughed slightly.

"I'm surprised Sophie hasn't told you yet."

"I want to hear it from you." He drew back, placing his hands on either side of her face, angling it to look into her eyes.

"I'm a Watcher now," she whispered, gently removing his hands from her face, taking a slow step back. "That's all I'm allowed to do."

"But what does that mean?" He asked, linking his fingers through hers, not letting her pull away.

"I watch people, protect them. I can't be seen, I can't be heard, unless one of our masters calls us into action." She sighed, a tiredness crawling across her face.

"Who are your masters?" he asked, squeezing her hands lightly.

"I can't tell you that." Her face hardened, voice steely, shutting him out completely.

"What about those who ran down afterwards... Metz, Guggenheim...?"

"They're high within the Huntik council. They can control the masters and ask them to call us. Our masters wouldn't reveal themselves willingly." Her voice was quick and hurried, covering up a hidden truth. She was getting more and more aggravated, he could tell. If she got too bad, she would leave, and he would have to wait who-knows-how-long until he saw her again. He wasn't prepared for that to happen.

Dante took her hands and guided her to the bed; he sat down on the edge and motioned for her to do likewise. When she did, he wrapped an arm around her shoulders, pulling her closer to him.

"Sophie said that Watchers live on the brink between humans and titans."

"We do." Zhalia lifted her gaze to meet his, her eyes level again. Yet something within them made him think she was dodging something again.

"How?"

"You saw back there. The powers, the speeds. Every way we fought was not quite human."

"They told me you left to be trained as a better seeker."

"I am. My powers of observation will have increased tenfold, as will my speed, ability to stay hidden and overall skill, if I ever make it out."

"If?" He felt as though all of the wind had been knocked out of him, as though something had hammered into his chest. She stiffened beneath his arms and her eyes closed, recognising her mistake.

"What do you mean, if?"His voice wavered slightly as she stood up and walked across the room. He reached out, catching her fingertips. "Zhalia?"

"I can't tell you." Her voice was flat and full of hurt. She turned her head slightly, catching his eyes.

"Why not?" An anger swelled within him, feeling helpless against this alien concept. She turned away again.

"I'm not allowed."

"Why?" He insisted.

"I just can't." She spun. He saw within her a fear, something he rarely saw. His face softened, abandoning all resentment within him.

"I'm sorry."

"So am I," she whispered. Her hands were placed on either side of his neck, cool against his skin. She used her thumbs to tilt his chin towards her. When he looked at her, he saw her face and eyes scrawled with sincerity. "Know this though: I can't die. As long as I am needed as a Watcher, I'm safe."

"So what do you mean by 'if'?" He whispered, but a wave of relief washed over him. She shook her head, silently repeating what she had said earlier. He swallowed, looking down at his feet, choosing to change the subject. "Metz says Dan and Harrison are re-adjusting to normal life."

"I know," she smiled, "I watch them. It's a shame they chose to leave it behind. But they'll do well without it. Some of us can't take that risk."

"Who else do you watch? Or can't you tell me that either?" He grinned, enjoying spending time with her and glad to see his smile returned.

"You're catching on fast."

"I know." He reached into his pockets, pulling out her amulet. "I think perhaps you should have this back."

"No, keep it safe." Her face fell slightly, folding his hand around it. "I have no need for it, and Gareon may be of use to you."

"But he's your oldest friend..."

"That's the point, remember."

"But how am I meant to control him if he's still yours?" He sighed, turning his head away slightly.

"The same way you bond easily with Metz's titans and Lok with his father's. A relationship needs to be cemented; by time or by blood."

"This was the research you did?"

"Yes," she nodded. He turned an idea over in his head, choosing his words carefully. He leaned closer towards her.

"Well then, here's a deal. I keep hold of him, but every time you get a free night, or time off; come and visit me, please?" She turned her head away slightly, but he continued. "That way, we'd have time, I can tell you what Sophie's found out, and perhaps we'll find a way to get you out again." He leaned his forehead against hers, curling her hand in his. "I'd be able to spend time with you. Then maybe Gareon would behave."

"Dante," she murmured, "I know all of the answers, and none of them are happy ones. It's like reading a book, but already knowing how the story ends, and how many tears will be shed to reach it. Your tears."

"I don't care. Please."

They stared into each other's eyes for a time. She bit her lip in indecision, but something shifted.

"Ok. We'll play it your way." She kissed him, on the cheek; soft and brief, yet it set his face on fire. She stood to leave, but he clung to her fingertips.

"Don't go," he whispered. She watched him for a time, and he watched her. Slowly, a smile spread across her face, and she linked her fingers with his.

When Dante woke up the next morning, the sun was already shining. She had left, leaving the room feeling cold and empty. He ran his hands over the sheets as he sat up and glanced towards the desk chair.

She had left her jacket for him.


	4. Affinity

"So what did you find?"

They sat in Dante's living room; him, Lok and Sophie. They had returned the day before, keen to settle back in before they started work again. As Dante had unpacked his suitcase, he had lifted out the carefully folded jacket, and hung it on the back of his door, so it would be there for him to see whenever he needed it.

"In their library, not much," said Sophie, pulling out a notebook from her bag. "Only stating their existence and that there are five of them chosen."

"Well that's not very helpful."

"Thank you Lok, for stating the painfully obvious," Dante sighed, staring at the ceiling.

"That's the sort of thing Zhalia would say," Sophie smiled sadly.

"Yes, well," Dante leaned forward again, focusing on the issue at hand. He wasn't going to dwell on that now. "You didn't finish what you were saying, did you?"

"No, I didn't." She opened up her notebook, folding the pages flat and laying it on the table. "When I got home, I went and searched my shelves for some quick information."

"Quick?" Lok raised an eyebrow sarcastically. Sophie shot him a glance before turning back to her book.

"Each of the Watchers is closely associated with a type of titan, as well as an element which they have an affinity towards. They share in their specific skills and, when released find it a lot easier to bond with those types of titans.

"As far as I can see, they correspond to Gaia, Draco, Krono, Litho and Meso Titans. Scarlett, I think, is a Gaia titan. She seemed to have deep affinities with the earth, like they do, and her usual titans come from that genre as well."

"That makes sense... It would suit her," Dante nodded.

"The other three, I would presume, are Draco, Krono and Litho titans. Air, fire and water, respectively. The one in white, in particular, she could fly, I think, or at least sustain it longer than when the others were in free fall. And the other, in the fire suit, that makes sense as well."

"Anything else?"

"It's hard to tell," she shrugged, "we know so little about their characters; we don't even know their names."

"I was referring to Zhalia," Dante said softly.

"Of course. I wasn't going to forget her." Sophie turned the page in her notebook, glancing down briefly. "I believe she links to Meso Titans: strong, powerful and incredibly dangerous. Able to cause immense damage if left unchecked."

"Well, it definitely sounds like Zhalia," Lok chuckled. Both Sophie and Dante shot him a glare, causing him to stop.

"Janusea," Dante murmured. "Balancing between two realities."

"Yes. Like her. Also, as Lok so blatantly pointed out, it's not out of place with her. It does seem as though she should belong in that position. She's perfect."

Dante stood up, turning his back to the other two. He ran his hand over his face. She didn't belong there; she belonged here, with them, her team.

"There's something else," Sophie murmured. Dante waved his hand, telling her he was listening.

"Because Zhalia is stronger, she's the one who leads them. She has elements of each of the other four. She's more powerful, so she's in charge. They're her team now."

"What's that supposed to mean?" Dante breathed, his voice low.

"Only that, by those reasoning's, it's probably going to be harder to get her out."

Dante sighed quietly, stalking into the kitchen. He turned the kettle on and lent against the kitchen cabinets, turning the information over in his head. He heard the closing of the front door, as Lok and Sophie left. He was alone. Usually, she would be here with him. He sighed again, reaching for a mug.

He poured himself a coffee and walked back into the living room, he sat in an armchair, staring at a point in space. The Watchers were powerful people, from what Sophie had said, and now she was one of them. Sophie had also said that it would be hard to get her out of them. Zhalia had said if. Why if? If they were protected, and couldn't die, what could that if mean?

He leaned back, glancing at her jacket, a small smile playing across his lips. She was safe, though, and it should be those that had to face her that should be scared. And she was in charge – she had her own little team. He felt proud of her, suddenly. Yet there was also a gaping gap, knowing that she was absent from his.

Dante pulled out his Caliban amulet, turning it over in his hands.

"Meso titans," he murmured to himself. Hard to control, but a fierce friend once reined in. Yes, he smiled. That definitely was Zhalia.


	5. Five Questions

She was waiting for him when she got home.

Curled up, with her head on the arm of the chair, she looked like she was sleeping. Dante walked through the door and his shopping fell straight out of his hands.

But the sound of smashing eggs and jars, and the rolling of various vegetables never reached his ears. He glanced down, the bag floating a couple of inches off the floor.

"Now that's not very clever, is it?" Zhalia sighed, climbing up and walking towards him. "You'd have to go out and buy them all over again."

She bent down plucking the shopping out of its levitated state, before walking to the kitchen.

"How did you get in?"

"Oh please, Dante," she shot him a glance, opening some of the cupboards, and stacking the shopping away. "Even before this you knew that locks provided no problem for me."

He chuckled, leaning back watching her. He shook his head after a few minutes, turning the kettle on.

"You kept your promise."

"Don't I always," she whispered. She placed the last few items away, shutting the doors and turning back to face him.

"How do you know where all of my shopping goes?"

"Logic," she shrugged, "or, if you think about it in another way..."

"You watch me?" He asked, vaguely startled.

"Of course. My master wants to keep you safe."

As Dante poured out two cups of tea, a strange feeling crawled over him. Was it disappointment that she only watched him because she was told to? Or the fact that she even watched him at all? He couldn't tell if it was mistrust or the strength of hers in him that bothered him.

He handed her a mug, and they both made their way back into the sitting room. She sat in one armchair, and he in the other, facing each other. He smiled at the familiarity, watching her hug her drink to her chest, as if trying to warm herself.

"So, Meso Titans?"

"Oh you've gotten that far," her voice tinged surprise. "Anything else before that?"

"No," Dante said cautiously, she nodded slightly, her eyes taking in a calculation.

"No matter, I'm sure Sophie will double back at some point."

"To what?"

"I can't tell you," she sang, grinning slightly.

"Well, can you at least tell me why you're here? I didn't expect you so soon."

"We give a monthly report to our masters and some of the top guys at the Huntik Foundation, plus any who specialise in the study of our guild. It's the last day of November, so we give them our November report." She nodded slowly, taking a sip of her tea.

"How can you have specialists in something that you aren't even allowed to talk about?"

"Usually, they're ex-Watchers, or descendants of, or ex-masters. Someone who is inextricably linked to them, and their secrets have been passed forward and need to be protected. You do realise they systematically wiped over half of the minds in that conference, to keep our existence secret?"

Dante turned this information over in his mind, questions bubbling up all over the place. He wanted to know so much, but as before, he knew their time together was limited. She sighed, placing her cup on the table and leaning forward to rest her elbows on her knees.

"Five questions," she said, raising her hand, indicating with her five digits, seemingly reading his mind. " Then we put this conversation to rest and don't talk about it again. I come here to get away from it all, not to be quizzed on it. Do we have a deal?" She looked up with imploring eyes. He could see she was tired and worn, and it was clear that she said everything with all sincerity.

"Ok," he murmured, smiling sympathetically, leaning forward to place his own elbows on his knees. He thought for a while, considering his questions.

"Ok. One, what are the names of your 3 other companions? We know who Scarlett is, but we don't recognise the others."

"The one in white, with blonde hair, that's Kelly. The dark skinned one in the fire suit was Amira, and the one in blue is Elea." She sighed, shaking her head slightly. "You wouldn't recognise them; they've all been there for over a decade."

Dante blinked. If they were still there after a decade of trying to free them, how long was it going to take him to get her out?

" Two, why were Sophie, Lok and I allowed to keep our memories?" He moved on quickly, choosing not to dwell on that idea for too long.

"Because I fought for them. For you." She averted her eyes, her tone lowering. "If anyone had a right to know, it was you three, and I told them that morning when I returned. I was punished for impertinence, but eventually they agreed."

"Thank you," he whispered, gazing at her with a fondness.

"Question three?" She asked, a stone hard clarity forming in both her eyes and her voice.

"Why do you need to be kept a secret?"

"Because there will always be those who misuse power," she said bluntly. He nodded, agreeing. Somehow there was something else hiding behind that statement, but the neutral look across her face, so common, and long since mastered upon her gave him no hints or reasoning.

"Would you ever want to come back to us, just humble humans?"

"Of course," she chuckled. "What do you think I'm doing? This is my sanity, this is where I belong." He smiled as she did, a warm sensation running through him. But there was still something nagging in the back of his mind.

" Five," he swallowed, a lump forming in his throat. "Why did you leave us anyway?"

She stood stock still for a moment, not blinking, barely breathing. She turned away, standing up and walking across the room.

"Don't you ever think I did this willingly," she whispered, her voice trembling. "There may be some who do, but I'm not one of them. Why would I give up everything I had here, for this nightmare?"

Dante got up, striding over to her in an instant, concern and worry once again scrawled across his features

"Zhalia, look at me, please." When she didn't, he guided her face with his fingers, gently, staring into her eyes. He cupped her cheeks with his hands resting his forehead against hers, whispering, "I'm sorry. I'm so, so sorry."

She stirred slightly, burying her head into his shoulder, and he moved his hands to hold her closer. He stood there, letting her cry for a while, stroking her back. He engrained this moment into his mind, knowing it would be a long time before he even saw her again, let alone if she let him close enough, like this. But, he couldn't stay like that forever.

"Who forced you Zhalia?" He murmured, pressing his lips to the side of her face. He was surprised when she didn't flinch.

"I can't tell you," she breathed, glancing up at him. She shook her head, "besides, you wouldn't believe me if I told you anyway."

"Of course I would. I'd trust you with my life." She shook her head, extricating herself from his arms.

"It doesn't matter, I can't tell you anyway. That's something you're going to have to find out yourself."

Dante sighed, watching her. She looked so defeated, lost and tired. He wanted to change that, and it would all have to start simple. He reached out and took her hand.

"Right," he said, forcing a smile. " That's my five questions over. I promise now, nothing else for the rest of the night."

"Thank you."

"But," he pulled her closer and took hold of her other hand as well, "you're not going anywhere. We'll watch a film, just like we used to. Complain at all of the stupid effects and unrealistic plot lines." He winked, and she smiled back.

"As long as you don't make me watch another chick flick."

"Wouldn't dream of it," Dante grimaced. "I've still got the scars from last time."


	6. December Waiting

As December broke, the snow began to fall. The crisp white blanket to his front door was disturbed every day by the two younger members of the team, as they finished the last few days of their school term. Sophie constantly reminded him that she was still looking, but the information was harder to find than she had thought.

"At least you'll see her on New Year's Eve," Lok commented one day, bringing Dante out of his thoughts.

"Lok's right," Sophie chirped. "It may not be Christmas, but it's worth something."

Dante nodded. He would only have to wait until the end of the month to see her again. Each and every month, if not sooner. He reckoned it was one of the few things that kept him going. That and Lok and Sophie. But they would be leaving soon; going to Ireland to spend Christmas with Lok's family. He smiled, imagining the happy scene.

He would be spending another Christmas alone.

"We'll leave our presents for her here, just in case."

"Sure," he stood up, gesturing behind him. "You can put them under the tree if you'd like."

There was some rustling as the two of them laid another present each beneath the tree. There were others, all for him, trinkets from old friends and new acquaintances, gifts which he didn't really care for. The tree itself was sparsely decorated, with only a few garlands of plain white bulbs. He liked how they sparkled, and sometimes, when all was silent, how the electricity crackled through them, the sound engrained into his brain, yet another link to her.

As the two began wrapping their scarves and coats around them, Sophie turned, raising her voice slightly.

"Just a quick thing; it's not much, but it's something."

"What is it?" Dante asked, suddenly alert and paying attention.

"The Watchers were founded by Casterwill's daughter," she began, folding her arms and leaning back against the wall. "Through her father's work, she found a connection between the titans and our world. She used this link to grant her and her four best friends the powers of the titans. Some of the scripts hint that there is a specific place where the link feeds into our world, a place full of knowledge about all of the Watchers; past, present and future."

"Sounds dangerous," Dante murmured.

"It probably is, but more so for the sheer amount of information concealed about their existence." Sophie shrugged. "Either way, something alerted Casterwill's daughter that they couldn't stay like that forever. That was how the system began, firstly with volunteers to take their place, and then for the master's to control them."

Dante sighed, turning his head away slightly. A place like that would be exactly what he needed. If it held as much information as Sophie said it did, it could help him find a way to get her out, to get her home, and maybe even find the identity of her master who took her away from him.

"Thank you, Sophie. You don't realise how much your research means to me."

"I think we do," murmured Lok, pulling his hat over his head.

"We'll see you in January when school starts again," Sophie smiled.

"Just try not to get another mission before we come back!"Dante chuckled at Lok's joke.

"I won't be going anywhere, don't you two worry."

There was a flurry of goodbyes, and wishes of merriment exchanged between them. Dante smiled falsely as he waved to their retreating backs from his front step. It was a wrench to let them go. He turned back to his house and closed the door behind him.

Empty.

Everything about the house now felt empty, the silence haunting.

The days dragged on. He bought her a present himself one day, wishfully praying that he would see her sooner than planned. It was small and insignificant, but he felt it meant far more. He tucked it into his pocket from the shop and held it all the way home.

Each night, without company, he would take her jacket and her amulet and turn them over in his hands, reminding himself that she existed. Every time the electrics flickered, he found himself jumping to his feet. His Christmas cheer ran low, and he could tell it worried his friends when they called. Metz, Montehue, Lok and Sophie; all of them, he could tell, were worried. But he did not seem to care. He only wanted her, and everyone else seemed inconsequential.

One evening, he glanced across the table, and something caught his eye. A piece of paper, with tight scrawled writing across it. He picked it up, frowning as he read.

_Your brooding will do neither of us any good._

It wasn't signed, but he could tell it was her writing. Taken aback, he ran everything through his mind. They weren't allowed to make contact usually, so what was she risking to tell him that?

She watched him; he remembered that now, so she must have seen him in this state. He couldn't believe how stupid he had been. Seeing him like this was likely to cause her more distress than the others, as she couldn't do anything to stop him. She had broken one of their rules to tell him.

Worry swept through him. Her master hadn't sounded the nicest of people, so what punishment had she suffered? Of course, there was always the chance that she hadn't been found out. He pocketed the note, placing it next to her amulet.

"I'm sorry," he whispered, hoping that she could hear him.

By Christmas Eve, hope filled him that the masters may allow them home for Christmas. As the hours ticked by, he waited, resting his weary eyes every now and then. Night drew in, and he stood up to retreat to his room. At the foot of the stairs he sighed, realising the futility of the anticipation. He turned off the light, and began to climb the first step. His foot had barely touched it before he spun, searching for the cause of his distraction.

Someone was knocking at his front door.


	7. Healing

"Thank goodness you're still awake."

A woman with bright red hair pushed passed Dante, her voice urgent. He turned to follow her path, taking all of the details presented before him. It was Scarlett, dressed as she had been at the conference, in clothes of a deep forest green, but this time, her hair was tied back and she was carrying something. Someone, he corrected; there was an arm clawing at her shoulder and muffled cries of pain. As Scarlett laid the person onto the sofa, a wave of realisation flooded over him.

The colour was purple, yet it was stained crimson as the blood from her wound pooled. It was Zhalia.

"What happened?" He cried, running to her side. Closer up, he could see a deep gash to her abdomen. Her breaths were sporadic and shallow.

"The Blood Spiral set us a trap; they knew our Masters would send us to it. It didn't work out particularly well for either side." Dante glanced up, as Scarlett grimaced at the end of the sentence. She had slices up her arms and across her legs, none of them particularly shallow either. She shook her head. "I'm the one who got out lightest.

"She's going to need time to recover, lots of it. Her systems need to start trying to knit themselves back together, and she's not going to have enough energy to transport for at least another 24 hours. The blade sliced right into her lungs," Scarlett traced its path, her fingers hovering above Zhalia's skin. Her voice was calm but cold, unlike anything Dante had heard from her before. She smiled grimly, "congratulations, Dante. You've got her home for Christmas after all."

"Is there nothing I can do?" Dante whispered, not taking his eyes off of Zhalia's face. He reached out, stroking the hair off of it, sodden by the snow that had melted through it.

"Just keep an eye on her; don't leave her alone. In a way, we're lucky that we can't die, but the pain we suffer when trying to mend is double it was when it was caused." Scarlett smiled softly, glancing down at him. "She's going to need someone to hold her hand. And, we'd agreed at the beginning of our term that if such a case as this was to occur, she would want it to be you."

"Thank you," Dante murmured, more to Zhalia than to Scarlett as he slipped his hand through hers. If she wanted him to hold her hand, he was going to. "Is there anything else?"

"I don't think so," Scarlett shook her head. She took a step back and he turned his head briefly.

"I'll leave you alone," she grimaced, her hand shooting to one of her deeper wounds. "I need to heal myself, and I'd like to see my mother." She lifted a hand in farewell, before she closed her eyes and sank, dissolving into a pile of leaves which dispersed with an unidentified breeze.

She started screaming three hours later.

Dante had watched as, slowly, her breathing began to return to a more frequent rhythm, yet still shallow and strained. Her grip had slowly gotten stronger and tighter around his fingers. And when her eyes flew open for the first time, although wild and searching, he felt a leap of joy within his heart.

It was short lived. With the opening of her eyes, it was like a realisation of the pain. Her grip turned vicelike around his hand and her whole body tensed as she uttered a cry that sent shivers down his spine. The lights began to flicker.

Panic surged within him. He grabbed hold of her other hand, and held onto both of them tightly.

"It's ok, Zhalia, don't worry, I'm here," he whispered, lifting one to his lips so he could kiss her fingers. They twitched in recognition, but still clung to his as she loosed another scream, as blood-curdling as the last. Dante slid off of the seat so that his face was level with hers.

"It's going to be ok," he murmured, placing a fleeting kiss at the corner of her mouth. "It's going to be ok."

Tears formed in his eyes, hating to see the pain she was in. He squeezed her hands and whispered words of comfort repeatedly into her ear.

"Hold me," she breathed. Zhalia's voice was shaky and barely audible. He looked up at her, confused. When their eyes met, hers conveyed the pleading that her voice could not. Dante smiled briefly and nodded.

He let go of her hands, sliding one arm beneath her. He slid her off of the sofa and into his lap, curling his arms around her thin form. She caught one of his hands, and guided it to the open wound, placing it above it, applying pressure.

"Please," she whispered, resting her head onto his shoulder. He nodded, feeling her blood still seeping through his fingers, but he didn't dwell on the thought. He wasn't going to let go.

Beneath his fingers, as the hours ticked by, he could feel the changes occurring to her. He could feel when the skin started to seal itself, and he heard her steady breathing. He rested his cheek to her forehead, watching the first rays of dawn creep through the window. Zhalia stirred, and beneath his hand, all he could feel was her cold smooth skin.

"I'm sorry," she murmured, making to pull away from him. He shook his head, and tightened his grip around her waist, securing her to stay.

"What for?"

"Well, if Scarlett did as she was told, she would've brought me straight to you. That would've placed the timings to about midnight, and knowing you, you won't have left me once." She sighed, shaking her head. "You've been up all night."

"You're right of course, but I don't mind," he whispered, guiding her chin with a hand. "It means I get to spend Christmas with you."

She rolled her eyes and he smiled at the familiarity. He hugged her, burying his nose into her hair

"The note," he said, words muffled.

"Ah, yes, the note... That wasn't technically my fault."

"Technically?"

"Kelly tricked me," she sighed bitterly, shrugging at his raised eyebrows. "She saw how troubled I was and told me to write down what I would say to you if I could. She then stole it and spirited it away."

"Were you ok?"

"There was a little bit of backlash, but not as much as there could've been. I wasn't the one who sent it," she smiled.

Dante returned the smile. He'd been worrying for a while that she might have been hurt badly for it, and was relieved that she hadn't. However, there was a niggling feeling in the back of his mind that was sad that she hadn't risked it for him.

He was about to open his mouth to speak, when the beep of an incoming call emitted from the TV screen. He stood up, lifting her up to place her into one of the armchairs. She caught his hand just before he reached for the remote to accept the call and murmured something under her breath. Within a blink of an eye, all of her blood disappeared, both from his fingers and anywhere else. She closed her eyes, grimacing slightly and slumped back into the chair.

Before he could make a start towards her, she raised one hand, eyes still closed.

"Just answer your damn call," she sighed. He shook his head, smiling before turning to the screen.

"Merry Christmas, Dante!" Metz's voice preceded his image, and Dante smiled to hear it. "Is that Zhalia as well? Well, my boy, I always thought you were a lucky one."

"Hello Metz," Dante laughed. Zhalia raised her hand in an attempt to wave.

"What happened?" Metz asked, his voice immediately changing to concern.

"They were sent to a trap yesterday evening. Scarlett brought her to me by about midnight. She's healed now, but it was bad." Metz nodded, much as he had always done when Dante had brought him up to speed.

"You're ok now though, aren't you Zhalia?"

"Still low on blood, and I won't be going anywhere for a few hours," she nodded, opening her eyes. "But yes, the worst is over."

"Thank you, Metz," Dante smiled, "for calling up on me."

"It seems that it wasn't needed though, now," Metz winked. "Have a nice day."

"You too," Dante murmured as the screen went blank. He turned walking to stand beside her again. She caught his hand between both of hers and looked up towards him.

"He thinks the world of you," she smiled, stroking his wrist with her thumb.

"I know," he sighed, sitting on the arm of the chair, guiding her to lean against him. "How long until you're back to normal?"

"Normal? Who knows... Until I'm able to function actively, probably mid-afternoon. But, as it is technically the same day as when I arrived, I don't have to leave until dawn tomorrow," she smiled, glancing up to meet his eyes.

"Will it be sooner if I let you rest now?" She nodded and he made his decision. "Good, in that case, you are going to sleep, and not protesting it." He tucked his arms beneath her and began to carry her towards the stairs.

When they reached her old room, he lay her down gently. He knelt down beside her, stroking her hair off of her face.

"Just you rest, ok?" she nodded, gently propping herself up so that their faces were level. He was about to tell her off when she shook her head.

"Dante?"

"Zhalia, rest, it can wait until later."

"No," she shook her head. Before he could respond, he found her lips upon his, soft and lingering. "Thank you," she murmured, before lying back down onto the bed.

It took every inch of his willpower to leave her to sleep.


End file.
